Devil May Cry: Hotel Hell
by victor-cardigan
Summary: Dante is called in by the caretaker of a long since abandoned hotel to clear up some lingering spirits.


For Dante, it started off like any other night, sitting on his favorite office chair watching Sledge Hammer on his pirated DIRECTTV. Sledge was the kind of man that Dante could relate to. He loved his gun. The man loved his gun so much that he did everything with it. Police work, bathe, and sleep, his gun was never far. It sort of made Dante feel like he wasn't entirely insane when it came to his affection for Ebony and Ivory. Then there was the fact that not unlike himself, Hammer fought against the dregs of society, low lives who deserved everything they got. After all, what could be worse than demons spawned from the depths of hell?

"Damn it," he cursed, "commercials."

Sure he wasn't paying a penny for the service, but it still ticked him off that people pay for satellite and cable services and they still get commercials.

"Time for a beer break," he mused.

The sound of the phone ringing could be heard even from within the refrigerator as Dante searched for an unopened can among the mass of half empty Chinese food cartons. Abandoning his futile quest he made a run for the phone.

"Devil May Cry"

The voice at the other end was obviously that of an elderly woman. Dante swore inwardly.

"Yes, I have a problem. My house is filled withâwellâmonsters."

"Monsters. How big?"

"Oh they are horrible little critters. Every time I turn on the lights they fly towards it. They get all over my food, my papersâitsâit's horrible."

Dante sighed. "Look lady, I'd love to help but there's just two things. One, we're closed. Two, I don't kill little monsters. I kill big ones. Evil demonic hell spawns." Dante's hand placed the phone on its receiver. "And three, I don't give a" As soon as the phone touched the receiver it began to ring once more.

"Shit." He answered the insistent phone. "Devil May Cry."

A nervous voice answered, "Yes, is this a Mr. Dante?"

"You can drop the Mr."

"Yes wellâmy name is Frank Wesmuller. I am the caretaker at the Fillmore Hotel. I have a problem."

"Yeah, what kind of problem?"

"The undead kind."

"Be there quicker than a New York minute."

The trip to the Fillmore Hotel might have taken longer, however not everyone rode a sleek black motorcycle powered by spontaneous combustion straight from hell. Dante took his inspiration from the MARVEL comic, Ghost Rider, another character he could relate to. Instead of giving him an address, Wesmuller gave him directions. Take US1 until it broke off into I75. Look for a blocked off Exit 16. Dante slowly swerved right and approached the barricaded exit.

EXIT 16

OLD 13

A slight grin came across his face. The sound of his bike's engine revving was like thunder. His tires screeched on the road before launching full speed ahead towards the barricade. Applying a little upward force he lifted the nose of his bike so that it literally flew over the barricade. As the bike hit the ground and continued forward without letting up, he had to fight the urge to laugh out loud.

True to Wesmuller's description, the road to the Hotel was long and winding. Large forest trees lined the sides of the road. Yet even with their great height, the hill that the hotel sat on was even higher. Dante caught his first glimpse of the run down lodge. From the size and stylized architecture he could tell that this place dated back to the heyday when expensive hotels were built like castles. A large central domed tower accompanied four large spires placed at each corner of the hotel's roof. It reminded Dante of those old Victorian houses that were built complete with an observatory on top. Perhaps the hotel received frequent visits from astronomers? At last Dante pulled up to the hotels main driveway. He parked his cycle in the cul de sac that would have normally been used by valets to receive incoming lodgers. Looking upwards, Dante was awed at the size of the building. Its once white exterior had fallen prey to erosion and had turned into shades of black, brown, and gray. He walked up the steps leading to a series of large wooden doors that made up the entrance. One of the doors was slightly open and creaked loudly as he pushed it inwards.

The lobby was devoid of light but his eyes adjusted immediately. Straight ahead was a large staircase apparently leading to the second floor. To his right were the front desk windows for checking in and out. On the left, once decorative paintings now hung crooked or lay on the ground.

"Welcome to the Fillmore."

In one smooth and swift movement his hands reached for his dual automatic pistols and pulled them from their respective holsters to aim at the source of the voice. Dante spun around and placed Ebony and Ivory within an inch of a silhouetted figure.

"Accommodations are not what they used to be, but I can still promise you service that is quiteâunique."

"I'll bet. Are you Wesmuller?"

"Frank."

Dante replaced his guns as quickly as he had taken them out. Frank's head cocked to one side and he pointed towards the holsters.

"Guns?"

"I tried a Wiji Board. Guns are better, trust me."

Frank's hand then gestured toward the hilt of Dante's sword, which towered over his head.

"They never go out of fashion," was his only response. "Now, why don't you give me the low down with this place and what's its problem."

Frank indicated for Dante to follow him and began to talk as he walked. It struck Dante as unusual that even though his eyes could see quite well he still could not make out Frank's features.

"The Fillmore opened for the first time in 1930. The area around here was still rather underdeveloped and the main attraction was the beaches. The hotel prospered for many years bringing the wealthy and the wealthier for warm winters and even warmer summers. All this was to change however. In 1943, a couple of years after the U.S. entered the war, the hotel was temporarily converted into a military hospital for soldiers who were either too wounded to return to active service or were in recuperation." Frank paused and pointed to an office behind the front desk. The door of the office lay on ground, torn off its hinges for reasons probably lost in time. "Mind the glass," he said before continuing with his brief history lesson. "There was a nurse working here at the time, Stella Palmer. She was married to a navy man who was then serving in the pacific. As it turns out, a torpedo struck the PT boat he was on. All hands were lost. So, Stella gets her letter and her condolences and then has a sort of nervous breakdown. The hospital administration gives her some time off thinking she just needs time to pull herself together. After all, she's young and strong right?"

"And this is where things go sour?"

Frank nods his head and continues. "She stays on as a nurse for the remainder of the war. Then right at the end, the military starts asking some questions. Apparently the fatality rate of soldiers sent to this facility was pretty steep. For the most part they had reasoned that most guys that came here were already half dead. But as always there someone that sees something different. Turns out dear Stella was killing off soldiers. Cutting their oxygen, ODing them on morphine, or maybe just giving them wrong medication."

"I see, her man didn't live so why should the others?"

"Something like that. Flash forward some years and I become legal caretaker of the place. I had ideas about maybe fixing the place up again and maybe making some money. Of course this is a big place and it would take a lot of money to fix everything. So I thought I would start with some small things like the electricity. I got stuck here one night trying to fix the damn thing and guess what I see?"

"Ghosts?"

"Tons of them. Now I wasn't a believer before. But a night in this place will convince anyone."

"Ghosts of the dead soldiers?"

"This place cannonballed after the scandal. I figure there are some lingering spirits. Well, that's your department. You tell me."

"Don't worry Frank. Tomorrow night you'll be counting sheep in this place. For now, scram if you want."

A faint smile crossed Frank's face. "I hope so. Before I leave, this is what I brought you here for." His hand gestured towards a thick ledger like book lying on a desk. Dante picked it up and began to peruse its contents.

"It's a complete listing of the soldiers who stayed here, their room numbers and their belongings. The belongings are being stored in the storeroom in the basement. Perhaps something that they brought might come in handy? Now, if you don't mind, I'll let you get to work."

Dante watched as Frank exited the office and vanished into the darkness outside. He stared at the thick ledger in his hand before dropping it into one of the larger inner pockets of his coat. After taking a quick look at the rest of the office's contents, he proceeded to head out to the lobby again.

The night had become remarkably darker than it was when he first arrived. The hands of his watch read 9:14 pm. He decided to take the main stairs to the second floor. With no electricity to power the elevators he would have to use the stairwell to reach the upper floors. The second floor did not have any rooms. It was devoted entirely to athletic rooms such as an indoor basketball court, tennis, and volley ball. As the entrance to the basketball court approached Dante's side he heard a sound. Dribbling. Bang! The sound of a ball hitting the backboard was followed by the swoosh of it passing through the hoop. Cautiously he walked towards the doorway. Standing there, he scanned the court and the empty bleachers opposite from him. One of the baskets had fallen over while the other stood covered in dust and cobwebs. Even in the dark he could see the slight movement of the hoop. A gust of wind perhaps? His eyes fell upon a lonely ball sitting immediately underneath the hoop.

By the fifth floor Dante was itching for something a little more tangible to pass the time. A few creaking noises and some suspicious noises but so far there were no spooks. At least there were no malicious ones. Perhaps Frank was a little jittery? The worst and the best kind of spook was a passive one. They're the worst because there is no real way to get rid of him, and the best because they don't really bother. Maybe they flush the toilet in the middle of the night but so will most people when they reach only half the age of an average ghost.

Dante opened the stairwell door and peeked into the hall at each floor. As he opened the fifth door he expected more of the same. Pitch black darkness. This time however, he saw a glint of light in the darkness. The atmosphere seemed spooky enough for a sudden scare So Dante went ahead and decided to investigate. The doors to the patient's rooms were all closed on this floor so he had no fear that he might be jumped from the side.

Lying in the middle of the hall was a small pin. Dante picked it up and examined it in his hand. The pin was very old and resembled a medal of some sort, the kind that soldiers pin on their uniforms. This one in particular seemed to be a fake. It was more like the kind bought at an army outlet.

"Where are my medals?"

A normal human being would have heard a faint and distant voice. But when the spectral figure that appeared behind Dante spoke, he heard him clear as day. The half demon blood that coursed through his veins assured him easy communication with all things dead and otherwise. The ghostly figure was partially decomposed and sported an infantry uniform. Tattered with age, time had not been kind to this old ghost. Dante could also see many small holes on the breast of his shirt denoting the places where many medals once hung.

"Where are my medals?" The specter repeated.

Dante offered his hand where he held the small pin. The ghost's eyes suddenly turned bright red and his appearance suddenly took on a hellish twist. At that moment Dante was reminded that not only could he hear the undead clearly but feel them as well. The ghost's hand thrust Dante a long distance down the hall.

"Give me my medals!" the undead soldier suddenly hollered.

Dante brushed off the dust that his coat had picked up off the ground. His hands reached for his guns and he aimed directly at the oncoming phantasm.

"Okay Pops, time to earn yourself another purple heart."

From the barrels of his two pistols, Dante unleashed a barrage of bullets. The bullets passed through the soldier but they left their mark. Dante's attack left the soldier looking like Swiss cheese. The ghost was still unrelenting in his approach. Finally it laid its hands on Dante's shoulders and began to shake him. "Medals,!" The ghost screamed madly as it shook Dante. After holstering his guns he reached backwards and drew his sword. The blade cut through the spirit as though he was still a member of the living. When the sword had cut across his torso, the apparition dissipated. For a moment Dante breathed a sign of relief. The moment was really just a second. Just as the last remains of the ghost he had just battled disappeared into nothingness, more than a dozen others began to sift through the closed doors of the corridor. All of them were heading towards Dante. He stared at them and saw the story of their deaths written all over their decomposed specters. A man with puncture wounds all over his arms had been overdosed on morphine. A few had their throats cut while others still trudged about with the bed sheets with which they "hung" themselves.

"Stella was a busy woman."

The ghosts were nearly upon him. He raised his sword so that he was pointing it directly at the oncoming mass. Charging forward, Dante punched a hole through the crowd and headed back to the stairwell. Once there he took to the stairs and began to ascend to a higher floor. After putting some distance between him and the ghostly floor he paused to consider his next move.

Guns were not really that effective. Fun to use, but not really that efficient for this particular job. For future encounters he would have to rely on his sword. Pulling the book that Frank had given him, he began to peruse its contents. Aside from the endless lists of patients, Dante found a section with photographs. Among them was a photo of a large operating theatre. Where was this in the hotel, he wondered. The photo on the next page answered his question. The ballroom at the very top of the hotel had been converted into the operating theatre. As Dante stared at the photo he felt something gnawing at his insides. A gut feeling? More likely his sensitivity to all things supernatural. He could sense that this is where he needed to go. This would be the perfect place for this nurse turned killer to hide in. Dante began to ascend the staircase with renewed enthusiasm. He lost count of how many floors he ran up. Finally he reached the limit of the stairs. Age had taken its toll on the hotel/hospital's structure. As he neared the floor of his destination the stairs stopped. Rumble that he had encountered on his way up had been the remains of the long ill used stairs that had crumbled and fallen apart.

"They don't make them like they used to," he mused as he looked off at the incredible height above him. He was going to need some kind of climbing equipment if he was going to make it upstairs. Perhaps searching the rooms? Better yet, he might have to tie some bed sheets together to make some rope. It was then that it struck him. He grasped for the book Frank had given him. He mentioned an inventory of the soldiers' belongings. Perhaps one of the many soldiers that came here was part of a mountain climbing detachment? Scanning the list he found his man. Sgt. Ian Wyatt, 10th mountain division stationed in Italy. His mountain climbing gear could be found in the basement along with the majority of other soldiers' belongings.

Dante made the trip back down to the first floor as quickly as possible. Passing through the lobby he felt a presence. In fact the he got the increasing feeling that someone was following him. Even as he approached the door leading to the basement stairwell, he felt it become even stronger. Beyond the stairwell door he found mass of crumbled ceiling blocking the way to the basement. It suddenly struck him as odd that although the hotel was old, so far he had only encountered two spots where the structure actually collapsed. It just so happens that both places happen to be very important. Aside from being a storage place for all the belongings that remained here, the basement was also where all the circuit breakers were housed. It suddenly became apparent that these two collapses may be more than what they seem to be.

"I haven't got time to dig all night," he said looking at the mass of rumble. He then pulled his sword and raised high above his head. Then with all his strength he swung the blade down on the ground slicing the rumble in half and parting a way for him to walk in between.

With no windows the basement was devoid even of moonlight. Dante broke the darkness by virtue of a lighter he kept with him for the odd occasion. Cobb webs and dust were the atmosphere of the basement. The air was rigid on the lungs and felt stale like that of a crypt that had not been opened for a hundred years. Various piles of belongings were scattered throughout. Dante began to think that finding the equipment he needed might prove harder than he thought. Then a glint of metal caught his eye in the engulfing darkness. Upon approach he saw it to be the power box for the whole building. Examining the inside he found that all the breakers had gone off. Although it made little sense, he decided to try resetting them. As he flipped the last switch back on the whole basement suddenly came alight with a faint surge of electricity. It was absurd to think that after so many years the buildings electrical system would still work, however Dante was used to the impossible. He turned to begin his search for the necessary equipment when he suddenly crushed something under his foot. He knelt down to examine the dusty remains only to find a skeleton. The poor skeleton's hand had turned to dust underneath Dante's boot. He studied the body carefully, especially the skull. No indications of what caused the death. It took a moment for Dante to catch notice of what the body held in its other hand. To his surprise this unfortunate soul seemed to have had the same need that he had himself. In his remaining hand the skeleton held a duffel bag whose mountain climbing contents were spilling outwards. Gently Dante removed the bag from the body. He turned to leave but stopped in mid-step. Pulling two coins from his pocket, Dante place one on each of the skull's eye sockets.

"It's never too late," he said before continuing on his way out.

The journey back up the stairs was much quieter now that there were some lights on. Specters feel less inclined to bother when people can see right through them. However the higher Dante went up the less lights seemed to function.

At last he reached the summit. Dante launched the end of the rope upwards so that it could latch onto something stable. In the darkness Dante had no idea what was supporting his weight so he made haste climbing up the rope. Standing on a small piece of stairwell, Dante headed for a nearby door marked "BALL ROOM."

The stairwell entrance ended up being a side entrance into the ballroom. It was a vast large room. A large number of tables were stacked blocking the main entrance from the hall. Littering the floor were various festive decorations. Walking towards the center Dante could hear the mixed sounds of people chatting, joking, and enjoying themselves side by side with the cries of young men on makeshift operating tables. Pleasure and pain all wrapped into one place. And worse still, hidden somewhere in the depths, murder.

At one end of the room was a stage, at the other was a large glass window with a panoramic view of the city. Dante allowed himself to be distracted for a moment by the grandiose sight of the lightening storm that had begun outside. The light from the lightening illuminated a part of the an opposite wall that caught Dante's attention. Walking towards it he could see that the wall was littered with various objects hanging from it. Some were nailed on while other just leaned against the wall. The objects seemed to be random. A bayonet, a helmet, a pistol, photographs, among others. Dante then looked to a small open box nailed to the wall by its cover. Inside the box were various medals.

A sudden low growl caused Dante to instinctively pull his guns out. The sights of his guns followed his gaze as he scanned the room. It was empty. The low growl sounded again and he caught sight of her. The light from a sudden lightening bolt illuminated her transparent silhouette as she fazed in and out of sight. She barely had a form. So old was he hatred that it had corrupted her and eaten her own spirit form whole. She was a shadow of a ghost. Nearly invisible, Dante had to wait for a lightening bolt to see where she was. Suddenly he felt nails sharp as knives cut him down his back. Holding back the pain Dante spun around and could see her bloodstained nails. The nails seemed to hover to about mouth level where the spectral form of a mouth materialized around the nails. She was drinking his blood and as she did so she regained her own spectral form. When she had licked all the blood from her nails she had become a once more a humanoid shape. Dressed in a blood soaked nurses gown, he blonde hair hovered about her with a life of its own. The hair and face completed the effect that had Dante think of Medusa as he stared at her. Her long nails extended even longer so that they were now sword lengths.

"Alright you certified psycho-bitch, let's rock."

The low growl transformed itself into a banshee scream as she charged at Dante. Dante quickly holstered his gun and reached for his sword. The undead woman's attacks were brutal and unrelenting. Nevertheless, Dante's demon reflexes were more than enough to keep up. The two sword danced to the beat of the storm outside as it lit their battle. As her attacks came closer and closer, even her medusa like hair began to make attempts to entangle him. In a moment of weakness, Dante forgot about the enraging hair and focused all his attention on the blade like nails. In that moment her hair wrapped itself around Dante's throat. Instantly feeling his mistake he brought his sword down and in one clean slash cut her hair. Once more the room was filled with her banshee scream. Thinking her wounded Dante quickly raised his sword again to take a swipe at her head when she suddenly rebounded and lunged both hands into Dante's chest.

Dante's could feel as his blood soaked her long sharp nails now firmly lodged in his chest. His blood began to drip and he looked down at her. Her body convulsed and suddenly a red aura surrounded her. Grabbing her arms Dante pulled her out of him and dropped to his knees. Before his eye he watched as the simple form of the nurse began to expand and in some ways explode. Four extra legs exploded outwards from her slowly expanding waist. Within moments he humanoid form had been washed out into that of a spider. Her mouth opened wide to reveal a full set o fangs. Dante stood up once more.

"Okay Florence Nightingale, tonight you get play Doctor and Nurse with the devil. In Hell."

Now equipped with spider legs she used them to launch extra attacks on Dante. Pulling all the stops Dante no longer held back. As one of her spider leg lunged toward him, he pulled Ebony from its holster to hold off the other attacks while he swung his sword upwards to slice off the threatening leg. Dante holstered his gun once more and ignored the loud screams of pain in order to press the advantage. With the point of his sword Dante began to rapidly sting the woman in the chest. Then with one sweep of his sword, Dante sliced off the remaining spider legs. Nurse Stella Palmer lay on the ballroom floor not even a shadow of her former self. Dante stood above her now holding Ebony and Ivory in his hands. Stella's blazing red eyes looked up at Dante.

"Take two, call me in the morning."

The guns fired and Stella's head exploded into a ray of light. Dante backed away as he knew what was to happen next. The light projected itself like a ray of sunlight at the wall filled with Stella's trophies. There the light expanded until it became a huge wormhole. Within seconds Dante saw a line of specters marching into the ballroom and heading to wormhole.

"All those lost souls. Incredible."

Dante turned around to find a voice speaking to him from behind.

"Frank? How long have you been here watching?"

"Been watching for a long time. These souls have been waiting for a special person like you to set them free. Now they can finally rest." Frank suddenly look away from the souls walking to the portal and look to Dante. "Your work here is done. You should go."

"Want me out of your hair so fast?"

Frank smiled. "No, on the contrary. I wish I had time to talk. But you see this place has been holding in all this evil for so long that once all the souls are through, this old place is just going to give way."

"Howâ."

Dante suddenly saw that there were no more souls walking into the portal.

"Time to go." Frank suddenly began to walk out of the shadows from which he had been in and towards the light of the portal. Dante saw Frank for the first time completely. The light of the portal shined through his transparent form.

"Goodbye, Dante."

Dante smiled as the realization dawned on him.

"Goodbye, Frank."

Frank returned the smile. As he was halfway into the portal Frank turned tossed something into the air.

"Oh, and thanks!"

Dante's hand reached up and caught what Frank tossed. Opening the palm of his hand he found the two coins he placed on the skull in the basement. He looked up to find that Frank had completely disappeared into the vortex. Suddenly the whole building began to shake. Dante turned and began to run toward the glass window of the ballroom. Behind him the vortex closed and erupted into a huge explosion. Dante felt propelled from behind through the glass window into the open air outside.

Literally soaring through the air like a missile, Dante flew an incredible distance until crashing through the roof of some unsuspecting house. Feeling much like the asteroid that annihilated the dinosaurs, Dante took his time getting up.

"Good Lord, what did they do now!" a female voice said aloud.

"It's okay ma'am. I'll pay for the roof repairs."

"Oh, are you here to get rid of the monsters?"

Dante's eye lit up with recognition. The elderly voice suddenly sounded vividly familiar. Getting up from his own crater, Dante turned to face the small elderly woman with whom he had spoken before.

"Lady, I'll fix the roof, but I'll tell you again. I don't kill roa"

"Are you sure you don't kill these bastards." The old woman's hand reached for the light switch.

Suddenly the room was filled with more than a dozen growls and hisses. The air suddenly sounded at the flapping of their small wings. Fangs emerged from the mouths of their disproportionately large heads. The leprechaun sized figures hovered around Dante like fireflies to a flame.

Dante pulled back on the hammers of Ebony and Ivory.

"Imps. I hate Imps."

FIN

NOTE:

Story takes place before Devil May Cry, therefore Dante doesn't have the Kick Jump. That's why he needed climbing gear.


End file.
